Concrete Angel
by Anna145
Summary: "No more," she says, and she walks out on the people who walked out on her. A series of shots on Annabeth, and why she ran away. Dedicated to Athena Forever, Clara Fonteyn, Theunder015, and Adonai63. Review!
1. Concrete Angel

**Concrete Angel: A one-shot on Annabeth Chase**

**A/N Hello, I decided to make this.....thing, bringing out some emotions. This was meant as an exercise for me and my feelings and turned out to be a complete fic. Dedicated to Athena Forever, because I know she's going through a hard time. Also, dedicated to Clara Fonteyn, one of my closest amies here in FanFiction. So I hope you like it. Please Review~!!!!**

She walks in a frangible manner, heading toward the huge lump of faded bricks, one on top of the other, with a big bleached sign reading: SCHOOL.  
Her footsteps fail to make an echo on the sidewalk. She looks straight ahead, the incisive storm clouds that are her eyes examine the scenes before her methodically, analyzing, calculating. Her gray irises rest upon one in particular: a woman, no older than thirty. She is standing in an odd position, legs bent almost to the ground, arms spread, wide open. But that is not what seems strange, unfamiliar. No, it is the body that fills the mother's arms that seems alien to her. Alien, because she has never experienced it, not in seven years of life. The little girl she is watching grins widely inside the comfort of her mother's arms, the parent doing the same. The gesture seems so out of place in her own world, something uncommon.

She readjusts her worn haversack over her right shoulder, the pressure leaving an uncomfortable sensation. Her mouth is dry, deprived from all forms of water. It seems as though it might crumble any second now, but she knows she _must _save the fresh, cool liquid inside her canteen until it is of utmost importance to ingest it. Her stomach makes hollow sounds, complaining and grumbling about not being fed. The lunch she packed sits untouched on her bag, taunting her just by having the nerve to exist, and she resists it. She resists the urge to consume it in a single bite.

Nobody knows what she retains in her possession. Nobody knows that she wears the crinkled dress she did not have time to iron the night before. It is the one she wore yesterday, and the one she will wear tomorrow. But she realizes that the dress alone would not be enough to cover the purple and red that dot her skin. No, she needs a sweater, another garment to cover up the bruises with linen and lace.

As she makes her way to the classroom, the hallways already empty, she realizes she is not alone. Her memories of the day before are stalking her, walking in the back of her mind. And she knows that this time, the monsters are _real. _And they don't hide in the closet, nor under the bed. They lunge at her, talons open, threatening to topple over the twin babies resting on their carriage. A concerned mother screams, a frightened father pushes her out of the way as he races to the infants, protecting them. The blow hits her square on the chest, sending her flying through a couch, through a shelf, through a door. A gun fires, and the creature flies away, unsatisfied. She sits up, ignoring the red on her arm. The two adults are fussing over the perfectly-asleep children, and backs turning on her. She moves, wincing, to grab a broom, and starts cleaning the shattered pieces of her house. House, not home.

The teacher looks up briefly from her desk, as the blond girl with the gray eyes enters the room, and sits down noiselessly, snatching a torn notebook from her equally mistreated bag. The air conditioner broke down today, and heat slaps the students on their faces. After a few minutes of torture, Annabeth is forced to take off her sweater, sighs, and resumes to write the too-simple exercise nonchalantly. That is, until the teacher begins to pace the aisles, reviewing the progress of the kids. Or, more precisely, attempting to do so. She is too distracted by the girl scribbling quickly just a few feet away from her who is, indeed, brilliant. A genius within the body of a seven-year-old. But she is also strange, forlorn, out of place. You can see through her cloudy eyes that she bears the burden of a secret storm. It is only when the teacher stops her musing that she notices the dark areas around the girl's skin, colored in purple and red. The old woman's eyes become wider, and she wonders, studying the marks on the little girl, watching her out of the corner of her eye. But the mentor doesn't ask, she knows she mustn't. At any rate, she knows how to pretend not to have realized. It is too hard to _see _the pain behind the prevention from being noticed, anyways. So she walks off, resuming her job as a teacher, and only a teacher.

The bell rings finally, long after Annabeth has finished both class work _and _homework. She overlooks the fact that she can focus completely, even with the intense painfulness hunger and thirst provide. She revolves gleefully around the fact that she will be eating and drinking soon. Her efforts and restraint finally paying off.

She finds a reclusive bench at the edge of the court, and slowly opens the plastic bag she has carried the whole morning. A single cookie sits there, already hard, inedible. But to her, it looks as appetizing and as mouth-watering as real meal. She brings it to her mouth, bites down on it, and contorts her facial expression into that of sudden pain; she winces at the taste. Or rather, at the _lack _of taste, and she opens her canteen, taking a sip. Oh how she wishes she was never born!

The sound of an animal startles her, and she spills water on her already-dirty dress. She turns in time to see a bird fly down and sit on her lap. It is small and has hooked and feathered talons, a large, round head, and a hooked bill. Its eyes are big and gray, just like hers. She jumps back when the owl hoots and stares at her intently. She raises her hand and cocks her head to the side as she feels the soft feathers on its head, laughing in spite of herself. She has never had a bird this close to her, and so tame. But she knows owls are supposed to be nocturnal animals, and she wonders idly why such a bird would be awake at this time. And as if realizing the girl was right, the hooter flies away, leaving a peck on the girl's cheek.

She frowns, dazed, and heads back to the building. And the next thing she knows, she is heading to another building, a smaller one. It's where hell meets earth, and where she doesn't want to go. Either way she opens the back door, and sees a woman with the same old broom, cleaning the last pieces of glass from the night before. She doesn't even acknowledge Annabeth as she steps in, and so she heads to her room. A small, confined space, with old wallpaper and a bed that creaks in the night, making frightening sounds. She drops her bag, and sits on the cold floor, ready to fly, fly to a place where she is loved. Her dreams begin to give her wings.

A _mother _would be nice. A mother who would listen to her, who would help her with her homework, even though most of the time she doesn't need help. This mother turns into a feather, and it lightly places itself to begin constructing the wings.

A father would also be good. She wishes a father who would hold her and buy her pretty things. Or who would read her a fairytale before bed time. Who would kiss her forehead and leave the door just a crack open. Her parents turn into more feathers, feathers that cling to her back, and she begins to hover.

Friends should be there on her list, too. Someone to laugh with, to talk during classes and to go for ice cream. And so friends become a part of her dreams, and therefore, her wings.

A teddy bear is one of her most secret desires. She should be too old for one, but she needs something to hug besides herself, because even for her, sometimes her own company isn't enough. This way, the bear turns into another soft piece of wing.

She saw a dress the other day. It was small and blue-green. A color she is fond of. It sat there on the sideboard, glowing, pretty, new. She longed to try it on, to twirl in front of the mirror and feel as if she were some kind of princess. But of course, one wants what one cannot have, and so she adds it to her dream-like wings.

Another life. Where there are no monsters, where she is safe, where she is loved. And she dreams, flying, through the wind and the rain, where she stands hard as a stone. In a world that she can't rise above. A concrete angel.

She doesn't know it, but she has fallen asleep, and by the time she wakes up, her wings made out of wishes shattered, it is already dark. She sits up, and hears somebody cry, a baby, though she is not sure which one, Bobby or Matthew. The neighbors hear but they turn out the lights, and Annabeth says, "No more,"

She hears her own footsteps run across her floor, grabbing things here and there, and stuffing them in the same worn bag. She packs the flannel, the only, pajamas she owns, and walks out the door.

And now, when morning comes it'll be too late .

She heads down the stairs as the two adults are in the room above, appeasing the newborns with love and care. She makes a quick stop to the toolbox, remembering the monsters that roam her, and grabs the long, sleek, tool she was told never to touch. It feels heavy in her hand, but she stuffs it too, with the rest of the objects.

Hammer, clothes, water, food, bravery, determination. And with all this, Annabeth is not alone anymore. She has herself and that is enough. She reaches for the door-knob, twists it and carries her foot over to the threshold. A broken heart that the world forgot.

"_But her dreams give her wings, and she flies to a place where she's loved……Concrete angel." _

**THE END**

PLEASE REVIEW PEOPLE!!!!  
Anna :)


	2. Stormy Gray

**Concrete Angel  
Stormy gray**

**This story is dedicated to a friend of mine. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, rapi-tortuga ;D! I hope you like your gift :D**

**Now, dear reader:**

**I am full aware I should be working on 'Somewhere in Time' because you guys are _tired _of me stretching the plot like that. I know, I'm sorry. I just wanted to post this next unplanned one-shot. This is sort of the continuity to Concrete Angel, when Annabeth is running around with Luke and Thalia. I suggest you take your time reading this, because, like in Concrete Angel, I put a lot of thought to the phrasing more than anything. Thanks for all those beautiful reviews, sorry if it made you cry. **

**Disclaimer- **I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

**Concrete Angel **

**Drabble #2- Stormy Gray. **

She's heard the phrase thrice.

—

The first time, the words come from Thalia.

"I don't know, Luke," she whispers late at night to her friend, when they both think Annabeth is asleep. "I'm worried about Annabeth."

She listens more intently the moment her name is mentioned, fidgeting on the warm clothes that act as bed sheets.

"Hey, it's okay. She's doing fine, Thalia, we'll get there." He tries to soothe his friend, but she merely snorts, refusing to let go of her assertion.

"Okay? You call what she is now 'okay'? Did you see the size of that cut? Because it seemed pretty big to me. What if it had been worse, huh?"

She remembers not to shudder as she is brought back momentarily to today's…event.

_She knows monsters don't purposefully miss the scent of three half-bloods walking around. She wasn't even scared of this _dracaena_. She just forgot to keep her balance and cut her arm, and everyone acted like she needed stitches; Thalia especially. Luke didn't mind so much, and that's what she liked best about him—and she liked many things about him—to him, she was brave. _

She returns her attention to the present, where she is listening to a conversation about herself.

"But it wasn't." He contradicts, struggling to keep the volume of his voice moderated.

"Oh, really?" Thalia says, her whispered shout somewhat poisoned with resentment. "And what if next time it _is_ really bad? Then what?"

"There won't be a next time."

Almost immediately, Annabeth can sense Thalia's sardonic scoffing.

"That is one of the biggest, fattest lies I have ever heard, Luke. There will always be a next time. We're standing in a storm." She grumbles.

She doesn't pay attention to what Luke has to say to that, because really, it doesn't matter. True to her godly parentage, Annabeth sets her mind on finding out what Thalia had meant. It wasn't raining that night, and they weren't even standing.

— —

Days later, she has yet to find the answer to the problem that has kept her mind busy. She's grateful for that.

"What are you thinking about so hard?" Luke's voice makes its way through her precious thoughts, disrupting them. They have stopped at a playground in Brooklyn for lunch.

"The food." She lies, "it's better than the one I used to eat."

She knows Luke won't even bother to see if truth is coming out of her lips or not; he's learned not to question her when she is so absorbed in her thoughts. To him, Annabeth's mind is uncharted territory better left that way.

"I'll bet," he agrees with a smile. "You still hungry?"

Annabeth shakes her head. Her curls are longer now, and they move and bounce as she does. She hands half of her cookie to him. He takes it, deciding to keep it just in case she gets hungry again.

Thalia arrives with a new Green Day button on her jacket. "You wanna get on the swings, kiddo?"

Annabeth jumps down from the bench she's been sitting on while she ate, taking Thalia's hand and dragging her towards the rusty playground. As she sits on the bright yellow seat, curling her fingers around the chains, she wonders aloud, hoping Thalia might answer.

"Thalia, why didn't I have a childhood?"

The daughter of Zeus freezes in place, wondering how on earth to reply. Sometimes the kid's too smart for her own good. She decides she must understand the question first.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, according to experts, most of the physical and mental development of a person take place in childhood. Most of them agree that, although exercise during childhood is important, the emphasis should be on fun and play. Why didn't I get to play, Thalia? Does it mean I didn't have a childhood because I didn't have fun?"

Her tone nearly brings Thalia to tears. How is it possible to say something like that in such an innocent way? So…_childlike?_

"No." She finally answers with enough composure, proper of a teenager. "Of course not. Where did you read that, anyway?"

"Luke gave me a book." She answers.

Thalia stiffens. _Luke. She'd definitely have to be supervising Annabeth's reading list from now on. _

"Well, don't worry. There's still plenty of time for you to play. We're doing that right now." Thalia's tone is final, promptly ending the conversation. She feels uncomfortable talking about feelings, and even more when she knows she's lying to a seven-year-old about those feelings.

Annabeth shrugs as her friend pushes her higher up. She likes the feeling of flying; she finds comfort there, away from all else. As she swings back and forth, she finds the break that makes it okay. That makes swinging on a rusty playground somewhere in New York a beautiful distraction.

The daughter of Athena knows lying is a bad thing to do. Worse even when she tries to lie to herself, but she does it anyway. She makes up words, faces, scenes, life. She's calmer that way, and when her feet touch the ground again, she's sad. Because stepping on the dust means stepping on reality. A reality she'd rather not be living, having found new family or not.

"_We're standing in a storm." Thalia's voice plays in her mind. _

— —

The second time she hears it, the words come from Luke, and she is _still _trying to figure them out.

He storms into the alley where she and Thalia are waiting for him. The latter has been watching the younger one trying to read a dictionary.

Annabeth looks up, distracted by the sound Luke's ragged breathing makes. He is wearing a large smile, much like always, and in his hand he holds a big paper bag.

"Where have you been?" Thalia demands, standing up to greet him.

"Sorry. It's hard to be sneaky when the stores are crowded with customers." His tone does not suggest sarcasm, rather, it suggests exasperation. "I brought some more food; we were running low on water, too. I also have…somewhere in here…aha!" he cries triumphantly after moving things around in his bag. He lifts some cloth up for both girls to see.

"What is _that?" _Annabeth cries in a disdainful tone that makes Thalia cackle. Luke doesn't seem to mind.

"_These, _young lady, are new jackets for all three of us. And we should put them on. It's getting cold." He hands a black leather jacket to Thalia and a green, fluffy one to Annabeth. "I didn't know your sizes, and I had to hurry so…sorry if they're a bit big."

He keeps apologizing as Annabeth tries it on. Her nose wrinkles as she sees the green army jacket around her little torso. It makes her feel bulky, but she must admit she's warm if not anything else.

Thalia doesn't comment. She likes almost anything that's leather and black, even if she has to roll the sleeves up her arms for her hands to show.

"All right," Luke says. "Who's hungry?"

While Thalia jumps forward for the apple on Luke's hand, Annabeth retreats to her book. She is trying to decipher the definition of a word, but it's hard for her. Not just because she's young, but because the letters move. She can't really make them stay still for more than ten seconds.

_**Family-**_ _group of people related by blood or marriage._

When she finally makes out those words, she frowns. She frowns because she finds out that her new friends don't fit the description of _family. _This angers her, makes her feel confused.

Thalia and Luke _are _her family, and for the first time, she does NOT agree with the dictionary.

She walks over in a serious fashion to where Luke is sitting . "Luke?"

"Hmm?" his mouth is full.

"Are we family?"

The two older demigods glance at each other questioningly. Luke swallows uncomfortably, sensing a long conversation coming.

"Sure we are, Annabeth. We're family; you, Thalia, and me."

"But we're not married!" She protests. "_Or _blood-related. How can we be family, then?"

Thalia chokes on her apple, wondering how on earth this poor toddler is still sane. Her eyes are always some sad shade of gray, and her lips are constantly set in a frown. She waits for Luke to answer Annabeth's question, because truly, she has no answer herself.

"Because we're special, that's why. And special people have special families, like this one. Families that are not in that dictionary of yours."

Annabeth ponders that for a long time, until she finally says, "That's strange."

Thalia leans forward. "Why is it strange, Annabeth?"

"If we're special, we shouldn't be so sad."

Luke is taken aback, worry etched on his face for the little blond girl in front of him. "We're not sad."

"Yes we are." She states emotionlessly, factually. "We're a sad family, Luke. Maybe that's why they didn't put us in the dictionary."

With that, she shrugs and yawns dramatically, settling in Luke's open arms but not noticing his expression; a mix of awe and anxiety.

It's colder already, but they can't build a fire. The only solution is to sleep as close to each other as possible, And even though Annabeth denies it, Luke and Thalia realize the need to keep her warmer still, because of her age, so they take turns each night to hold her. The daughter of Athena realizes this, of course, and she develops the ability to slow down her breathing enough for them to think she's asleep.

"So," Thalia begins, letting out a breath. "What now?"

"I have no idea," he whispers, and after a long pause speaks again, his voice somehow weaker. Discouraged. "You were right."

"About what?"

He sighs. "I'm worried, too. I mean, did you just hear that?" He says disbelievingly.

She can't open her eyes to see Thalia nod or frown, but Annabeth knows she does.

"What do you suggest we do about it? We're all troubled kids, aren't we?" she laughs in a bleak manner.

It's that sound of hopeless laughter that frightens Annabeth most about Thalia. How can anyone laugh without being happy? It's been weeks since she herself has laughed.

"We are." Luke agrees and concludes in a monotone. "Annabeth was right, too. We _are _one sad family standing in the eye of the storm."

Annabeth is too tired to gasp, but she reminds herself to put the matter off until tomorrow, when her mind is more alert. In the meantime, she wishes for sleep.

It's hard, at the end of the day. Because when all she wants is to be weightless, she finds that nighttime is where most of the work needs to be done. She has to find her distraction, that one thing that might pull her from herself. But it gets easier. Because, unlike when she had to build her own wings, she now sleeps in the arms of an angel itself. And it doesn't take as much effort to fly away from the endlessness that she feels in conscious state.

Memory seeps from her veins, and she is no longer walking the horrible earth. She's empty, carrying no weight, not even her own.

She finds her desired peace just when the silver moon rolls over, and, as always, forgets to shine on the alley where they rest. But she's comforted for now, in the arms of the angel. She ought to find some solace here.

Only the nagging remind of both Thalia's and Luke's words refuses to leave her, and she's not in good company at that.

"_We're standing in the eye of the storm."_

_Storm, storm, storm. _

— —

And the third time…well, the third time is self-explanatory.

She finds out tonight she doesn't like the rain.

Gray eyes flare open in the middle of the night, refusing to stay asleep even though the girl who owns them orders them to. Thunder be damned.

As best as she can, under the various jackets and clothing Luke and Thalia have placed on her, she wriggles out silently, wincing at the hitching in Thalia's quiet breathing.

This time, they have managed to make a tent big enough for the three of them, somewhere on a deserted road. Annabeth steps outside barefoot, eager for the only clue she's had in the past three weeks.

Rain.

The sky opens and water pours down, drenching her clothes completely as she stands there, staring blankly, placing no mind into the images her gray eyes capture.

The drops fall incessantly onto everything they please, and she hates it. She hates how you can't know where the water will fall, she hates the way they mark with little dark circles everything they touch, including her clothes. Her only set of pajamas! Thunder and rain be damned once more.

And then, then lightning flashes. She looks around, becoming alarmed.

She's alone.

She can't fly in this weather. She can't soar and drown in the lies she makes up for what she lacks. She tries, but water seeps through her wings as memories seep back into her blood. She is grounded. Feet buried in the dark mud.

Before she knows it, there's more water, but it's not coming from the clouds. She rubs her eyes in an attempt to catch the raindrops. She sobs at the resemblance her eye-color has with the clouds. A color Luke likes to call _stormy gray. _

This is the third time. The time she finally understands that storms come from broken people. That her eyes, just like the clouds, can _rain. _

"_The eye of a storm." Luke's voice rings in her mind. _Her _eyes _are the storm.

The gray orbs respond with drops that should be falling from the sky, not from herself.

"I'm standing in a storm." She whispers in realization.

The third time, she hears it from herself.

**Leave me your thoughts in a review!  
Anna:)**


	3. Pull Me Down

**Concrete Angel  
Pull me Down**

**A/N I am happy to announce 'Concrete Angel' as _the _Emotional Dumpster. You see, it has evolved into this...thing, and it's getting darker. Love to iBubble for convincing me to turn it into a set of drabbles. And now, I introduce part three, which basically says nothing in two thousand, six hundred and fifty one words! It deserves tomatoes and you know it, so please! Come forth. And now, read on, because it's pointless and hence, great for procrastination :D **

**Disclaimer- I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or the emo state this fic is in. **

* * *

"There's nothing here for us anymore! We have to run!"

Luke pulls her forcefully, tearing her heart and eyes away from the burning shelter. When that doesn't work, he lifts her up, carrying her as he runs.

A scream makes him stop dead in his tracks. It makes Annabeth's legs feel funny, and her head go blank. She has no time to wonder what happened, for Luke's following yell gives her the answer.

"Thalia!"

Luke's face goes white. He drops her swiftly, and makes her stay there, somehow managing to adopt the same calm, sweet tone he always uses with her. "Don't move, Annabeth. Stay here and wait for me. It's okay."

But he turns and runs for the flames.

She is only able to stare and wait, hugging her army jacket closer. She hears the fire cackle, as if taunting her. Daring her to run and save the falling pieces of wood . She has not to wait long for Luke, but it's long enough for the sky to weep the loss of their only refuge. As she listens to the storm, still in a trance, the raindrops seem to whisper. Having barely recovered from Thalia's chilling cry, she hears a growl, not far from where Luke has an arm around his friend's shoulder, helping her walk away. They don't turn to see it, but it's sufficient for Thalia to wave her shield frantically.

As she gets to where Annabeth is, the child is frozen by the gruesome mess her leg has become. Her jeans are torn, and blood flows freely from the wound, staining the ground with a vibrant red. Both demigods have their lips white with shock, and Thalia's face looks ghostly.

"We need to run."

"Just a little farther!" Luke promises desperately. He's been saying so for the past mile, and has only succeeded in exasperating Annabeth beyond proportion.

But then she stumbles over a stray rock, and he grabs her hand, catching her. His grip snakes around her little fingers, hardening with the trust that is ever so common between them. Thalia brings up the rear, brandishing Aegis in despair while grunting curses. Annabeth senses, in some level, that the longer her friend has to limp around, the more frustrated she'll get for not being able to keep up.

Thalia hates to be left behind.

As they get to a ridge, they stare down at a big, white house. Luke abruptly lets go of Annabeth's hand, folding his arms stiffly. His tone though, is casually forced, and Annabeth knows he's angry. His ragged breathing only adds to her assumption.

"All right," he says. "I'll just sneak in and grab some food and medicine. Wait here."

Annabeth takes his hand again, and Thalia does everything but look down the ridge. Her eyes run Luke's words, and she hesitantly protests.

"Luke, are you sure? You swore you'd never come back here. If she catches you…" She leaves the warning hanging in the air, already tangible with tension.

Annabeth has heard stories about his mother. She has heard Luke moan in his sleep for glowing green eyes, and about hiding in a closet. He says his mom is not really one, but Annabeth has a hard time believing it. How could anyone not like Luke? Especially his own mother.

As if searching for reprieve, Luke's hand tightens around Annabeth's in a sudden rise of anger. It hurts him to see the dirt claiming Thalia's blood. It's like she's unwillingly quenching the ground's thirst for the red liquid. But it's _hers, _damn it!

"We don't have a choice! They burned the safe house, Thalia. You've got to treat that leg wound."

Annabeth notices a shadow lurking under his tone. She's seen enough of it to quickly identify pain. But it's somehow different than the pain in Thalia's leg. She winces, not understanding the dissimilarity. Pain is pain, right? She doesn't find out until much later that it comes in many different shapes and colors. Each uglier than the last.

The house below catches her attention again. It's very pretty; white, big, Colonial style, with paneled windows and a porch. It even has a swing! Luke had a house with a garden and a lawn, where he could run all he wanted to. Why would he ever leave this place? Maybe, she thinks hopefully, maybe we can stay here for a while.

"This is your house?" She finds herself asking.

He looks at her and mutters. "This _was _my house. Believe me, if it wasn't an emergency…" He shakes his head, disturbing his mental calm. Annabeth presses the subject, gently letting go of his hand. She looks up at him, demanding truth.

If his mother is there, maybe they can see her, and Luke can forgive her for whatever she's done. She can give them food, and a bed. Oh, a bed! Maybe, if she likes Annabeth well enough, she can let her swing on the porch, too. Having no mother of her own, she seeks for contrast. Not all moms can be absent all the time, right? Just if they are important, like Annabeth's, or if they're sick, like Thalia's mom is.

Maybe now Thalia can have a mom, too.

Reveling in the surrealistic ways, she asks, expecting so, so much. "Is your mom really horrible? Can we meet her?"

She did not expect Luke's reaction to her harmless words, though. Without thinking better of it, he snaps, "No!"

Instinctively, Annabeth shrinks away, bumping into Thalia. She's never seen Luke more than just a little moody, and never at her. She's never heard him so much as raising his voice when speaking to her. She's never felt him nowhere near cold with anger. Not to her, anyway, and she suddenly doesn't like the place where Luke isn't Luke.

Here.

She feels brittle, staring with newly-found hurt. The rain in her eyes washes away his vehement choler, and he softens immediately, powered by the reproachful stare Thalia is giving him.

"I….I'm sorry." He looks at both of them in a somberly impressive manner. "Just wait here. I promise everything will be okay. Nothing's going to hurt you. I'll be back—"

The sudden flash of golden light doesn't scare both girls as much as Luke's expression does. His eyes go hard, his lips set, and his jaw clenches. He frowns with hate as a much older voice booms through the trees.

"You should not have come home."

Luke stiffly motions for Thalia to take Annabeth, and the little girl finds herself being pulled backwards into warm arms.

The moment she steps into the white house, herded by a god, she knows why Luke left. The wind chimes make odd sounds, and the little figures lined across the sidewalk make terrible shadows on the stone trail. Monsters little enough to battle her mind. They're too painful a reminder of their burned shelter.

The first room is weird, too. Annabeth has never seen so many mirrors together. It smells of smoke, and it feels cold and lonely, despite the fire above the mantelpiece. The only cruel reassurance is the back of her head leaning against Luke as she walks. The lit candles make her flinch away from the image they reflect.

Her own.

She looks frail, smaller, and painfully thinner. Rather than growing taller, she feels as if she's growing back. Her tangled hair and bruised face do nothing to help her fear of being the way she is, and what she's becoming. But her eyes have gained this little spark, her lips are still able to smile, and behind the dirt her skin is still able to blush.

She's happy, if not healthy.

But it's not the only representation in the room. As her eyes wonder hungrily through her framed reflection, they set upon a framed photo, sitting brightly on the ripped mantel. He's wearing a blue shirt, and he's smiling. A big smile. His eyes are scrunched up in mirth, and they look bluer than ever. Two of his teeth are missing, and the blond hair is combed for the first time. She stops in wonder, wanting to get a closer look. His picture mystifies her, because it's unfamiliar. She wants to know more. She always does, especially about him.

But the scissors that cut her string of attention come in the form of Thalia's hand. Her friend loses her balance and her leg gives out from under her, making a soft thud upon hitting the carpet. By the time Annabeth has turned around, Luke is already gripping Thalia's shoulders.

"Luke?"

She appears on a pink dress. A _dirty _pink dress. She's very tall and thin, and she has white hair that goes up and stands everywhere around her head. Dark smears once or twice across her face, and she smells like burned food. Annabeth recoils imperceptibly, but it's still plenty for her own self to notice. Surely, this woman isn't related to Luke; she's not pretty, and nice, and _normal. _

By Annabeth's dreamlike standards, she's not a mother.

Luke glances upward, breaking Thalia's intent glance. He realizes the daughter of Zeus is studying him, looking for his reaction. It makes him uncomfortable to say the least, because he always does stupid things after staring back. It's Hermes who speaks, though.

"May, dear, be so kind as to take Annabeth and Thalia into the kitchen. They're tired and hurt, as you can see. Luke and I will talk in the meantime. Come, my son."

The moment the god of messengers places his palm on Luke's shoulder, the demigod springs back in aversion, as if he's burning him with acid. His tone is white-hot with loathing. "I'm _not_your son."

And Luke burns him back, for Hermes retreats his hand quickly, and from then forward, refrains from approaching him. May however, chirps gleefully around both girls.

"I always knew my Luke had many friends! Oh, look how adorable you are." She reaches for Annabeth's cheek, but Thalia yanks the child back as best she can. May doesn't seem to notice, and she tries to help Thalia up. "Oh, dear. Whatever happened to you! Come, come, we'll get that ugly bruise better in no time."

She steers them into the kitchen, and Thalia grips Annabeth's shoulders from behind, refusing to let her out of reach. The crazy woman makes them both sit down, and starts babbling stories about Luke. She hands a little toy to Annabeth, and then proceeds to clean Thalia's leg. She rips the fabric, and washes it with water, soap, and some brown liquid. Thalia winces, but her lips remain a thin line, refusing to show any pain.

"Are you okay?" Annabeth whispers.

Thalia looks at the little girl with a forced smile. "Fine, kiddo. I'll be fine."

Annabeth nods, and grabs the representation of Medusa by the little arms. She begins playing around with it, noticing the lack of resemblance with Thalia's shield. She jiggles it around, attempting to distract herself with the monster. It scares her less than this house.

Half an hour later, Thalia's leg is bandaged and healing, and Luke's mother is pulling one badge of burned cookies after another. She pours juice into glass after glass, and she talks on and on, unintelligibly, and to herself. Annabeth is forced to admit she's scared.

"Honey, have some cookies! What did you say your name was?"

"Annabeth, ma'am."

"Ah, yes. Annabeth, such a beautiful name. And you, dear?"

Something makes Thalia stiffen, but Annabeth does not really understand it's a shadow of the past; of Thalia's own mama.

"Thalia." She answers curtly, but the woman is already too busy talking about Luke.

"I knew he'd come back. He's very handsome, and my, he has grown so much! He ran away to protect me, you know. Ha!" She barks, startling Annabeth. "They told me he wouldn't come back. I knew better. He looks so much like his father."

As her comments grow louder and more urgent, Thalia scoots her chair closer to Annabeth. A hand rests on her blond hair, and the other rubs the wounded thigh. Something is making her nervous and very jumpy, and Annabeth feels compelled to do something for her. She grips a burned cookie, and directs her broken gaze to that of the murmur happening in the living room.

_Can we go now?_

Luke's eyes rest on hers for the shortest of seconds, and then dart away to others. This is one of the only times he has ignored her, replaced her, and she is forced to focus once more on the incoherent chatter her ears are imposed forcibly to listen to. It is only now that she realizes why Thalia's hand combs through her hair. At the time she recoils from Luke's temper, her head bumps Thalia's leg, and now her friend is trying to comb away the sickly red that stains her curls with her own fingers.

"Then you don't care!"

Luke's sudden outburst of rage cuts through the kitchen like a knife, and the blood comes in the form of silence. May has stopped uttering those frighteningly imperfect words, and Thalia's neck stretches to the limit of its capacity, trying to catch a glimpse of the son of Hermes. Annabeth merely sits with a frown set upon her face. Retaliating his negligence.

"Luke?" May calls. "Is that you? Is my boy all right?"

And all of a sudden, the tears that fall from Luke's eyes make both girls part of the conversation. Forgetting her foul mood, Annabeth stares at Luke with concern, because the gazes of both of his parents aren't quite enough. She's never seen him cry, and she's sure he didn't intend for her to ever see him do it. But his father needs to go away, just like her own mother. And _his _mother is sick, too, just like Thalia's.

"I'm fine," Luke answers curtly. "I have a new family. I don't need either of you."

At this point, Luke's arrogance comes in the beautiful form of pride; a feeling Annabeth is bound to know. But this disguised form of agitation is to slowly take over her friend, morphing, until it finally becomes what he swore it wouldn't.

Failure.

It is too early in the hour to notice, so Annabeth barely bothers to follow the heartbreaking dialogue until her name is called.

"Thalia, Annabeth, come on! We're leaving." He yells and storms out the door, barely considering the speed with which he moves.

And just like that, another piece of Luke's soul falls off to rest upon hundreds of burned cookies, beanbag toys, and pictures of Hermes above a trashed kitchen sink.

A _house, _not a home.

And Annabeth doesn't bother to look back.

* * *

**Now that I'm done _offering _you procrastination, feel free to make it last longer by reviewing! **

**Anna:)**


	4. Darkest Before Pitch Black

****

Concrete Angel  
Darkest Before Pitch Black

* * *

**A/N Well hello there. I see you have found Procrastinator3000. And you know what? It's for free! And if you are one of the first 100 people to read this source of sweet idleness, you get to leave a review! Also for free! Now, I should warn you, the first part of this shot is bleak, somber, and really fun to read! So please, do enjoy this chapter in all of it's glowing misery. Minor strong themes, mentions of death...you have been warned. We are not responsible for the sudden need to cry this story produces. This product has a strict policy on the returning of decreasing happiness. ****So Read On! ;P**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. **

* * *

The bulb on the nearest light pole flickers, intermittent, across the deserted farm road. It burns unsteadily and fitfully, making odd shapes in the eyes of a blond girl.

But, by now, everything would make odd shapes. Her mind resents her over thinking more than ever, and her stomach wonders in exasperation why it hasn't been fed yet. A day is usually all she has to wait for the next meal, and even that time span is rarely allowed by Luke and Thalia.

They've tried to keep Annabeth healthy, even at their own expense. But much as they would want to, they can't keep the little girl from getting thinner, paler, and weaker. It's been five days since they last ate, and none can think coherently anymore.

"I hurt everywhere." She complains.

"I know, Annabeth. Here, if you bend like this it doesn't hurt much."

Luke scoots closer to her and folds Annabeth's knees closer to her chest. Out of all three, Luke is the one who appears strongest. He's lost weight, and he's pale, but his voice still works in a fairly normal way. He's able to move and smile.

He scarcely does.

Thalia comes closely second, but you can see the traces of starvation more pronounced along her features. She's thinner and weaker than Luke, and her eyes are sunken. Rather than body fat, she's lost muscle mass, and it pains Annabeth to see her formerly lithe frame slowly become graceless and creaky.

But both Luke and Thalia cannot overlook the drastic change that has taken over Annabeth, though. She's bony and feeble, and the lack of food has taken its toll in the form of nearly unbearable cramps. She sleeps all day, and they gradually become more and more worried that she'll lose consciousness. Her eyes have become glassy, and her nervous system has nearly succumbed completely to languor.

And even now, as he holds her, Luke knows they won't be able to go much farther. They ran out of the food they stole at his mother's place a few towns ago, and they've been stranded on a farm road in New Jersey.

But he locks eyes with Thalia, and they reach a silent agreement.

"Annabeth?" She speaks her name gently, making sure she listens.

Annabeth turns on her, her eyes wide with despair and insanity. Thalia can see the expression of pain so carefully mixed with her features. "Hmm?"

"Sit up. You're crushing the apple pie!"

The seven year old barely has the strength to frown as Luke agrees by picking her up and setting her on his lap. "Careful, Annabeth. Here, take this plate."

"What plate? What apple pie? I can't see any, and I'm hungry!" She wails.

Luke takes a deep breath. It's the last thing he can do for her. He knows it, and Thalia does, too. Might as well let Annabeth die peacefully, with the belief that her stomach was full, even if it isn't, and the cause of death _is, _indeed, inanition. It's the last attempt to save the fading light in her wide gray eyes.

Because there is nothing to light her small bones and muscles anymore.

"Well, we thought you were smart. Only smart people can see the food, you know. Look, it's all around here, see? And you can have anything you want."

This hits home. She _is _smart, and so she makes herself focus. She squints to see the marvelous feast Luke and Thalia talk about. She grabs her invisible plate and serves herself three slices of apple pie. Having the chocolate-covered donuts right next to it, she grabs two. Next, she reaches over for the picnic basket, and pulls out a fork. She sets her plate on the red-and-white checkered cloth, and digs in.

"I'm having apple pie, and donuts, and I'll have a cookie after." She announces, delighted.

"How about a salad?" offers Luke, who savors the delicious absent taste of barbecue.

"Or fruit?" Thalia suggests, showing off the chocolate ice cream she twirls in her hands.

"Not really. Salads and fruit are boring. I'd rather have a huge bowl of ice cream."

Luke strokes her hair, wanting nothing more than to hide the despondence behind the illusory smell of hamburgers. "As you wish."

"Mmm," Thalia mutters, her mouth full. "What flavor? I have chocolate, vanilla, strawberry…"

"Is there any Rocky Road left?" Annabeth asks hopefully. She wouldn't want to miss out on the ice cream!

"Plenty. Here, have it all." She swallows here. "I'm good."

And so the older demigods are unable to fight the moment of truth in the lie, because there isn't any. Just like there isn't any food, and they're just trying to ease Annabeth's pain.

By inflicting it on themselves.

"Pass the milkshakes, Thalia." Luke forces himself to smile, and gives in to that deceiving quenching of his thirst. "I'll have strawberry."

She quickly hands him that tall, red glass of ice, milk, and whipped cream. He hands the vanilla-flavored deception to Annabeth, and they all secretly toast to their misery. He brings the blue-colored straw to his mouth, and takes a sip.

Falsehood tastes nice.

* * *

The stars have lost track of time, because they're too busy staring down at the outlined figures on the meadow they shine on.

"I'm so full, I could sleep for hours." Annabeth yawns, mistaking her weakening frame with need for sleep. Yes, she knows many things, but she's much too young to know about death.

And now she'll stay young. She'll go young.

Luke gathers her now weightless body and places her next to him. "Go on. We'll wake you when it's morning." But his voice breaks, and a treacherous tear splashes Annabeth's cheek. She turns and watches him.

"Why are you crying?"

He chuckles, the soft tone makes it impossible to recognize the blackness lurking below. "That hamburger wasn't all that good. In fact, it was awful."

Annabeth sighs, shaking her head slightly. "I told you, you should have eaten the donuts instead. They were so tasty." She mutters dreamily.

Thalia kicks in, seeing Luke is unable to continue. "Well, you can have more tomorrow."

"I'm cold."

And a black leather jacket finds its way around Annabeth's small shoulders, making her sigh contentedly. She curls up against the two favorite—the only—people in _her_ world. She drifts off and away, her brittle life slipping through Luke's unwilling fingers.

"I'm sorry."

The uttered apology hangs in the air long after Annabeth's pulse has decreased considerably, just like her body temperature, despite their attempts to squeeze her in between their pale shoulders. Thalia's teeth chatter, and she lets them, because an icy hand finds its way through hers.

"Does it hurt?"

Thalia shakes her head in determination. "It's freezing."

So, suddenly, the cold hand doesn't intertwine with her fingers, thinking she meant him. She doesn't mean him, or the weather, though.

She means death.

"Close your eyes." He advises. "Sleep helps."

But he knows, and damn it, he knows so well. Sleep is not innocent now. Sleep becomes the ghostly door that'll take them away from him if he lets it. But if it helps her ease the pain, he has no choice. It's his fault, after all.

"I'm so sorry."

She shakes her head again. "It's not your fault, Luke. It's not…" She breathes deeply, fighting those closing eyelids with all her might. "—your fault."

_Oh, but it is. _

She claims his hand again, ignoring him as he flinches. She knows she's as cold as him now, and just as weak. Annabeth's breath becomes shallow, unstable, and hitched. She looks away. She can't…

"She's so pale…" Thalia whispers, staring at the little face beside her. Her voice is a hungry whisper, bending her expression. She takes comfort on the fact that Annabeth is not feeling much.

Soon, she won't be feeling _anything._

They don't need any words, just each other's iciness. Words prove futile when you cannot speak, and tears are shown as barren when you cannot cry.

Slowly, so very slowly, Luke watches as the stars forcefully draw in the light in Thalia's blue eyes, and feed on it, leaving them glassy and lifeless. They smile cruelly upon him. He's giving up forever, tasting this moment.

It tastes worse than the lie.

A sob is heard by nothing but grass, as Luke feels a listless Annabeth beside him, and Thalia's limp hand no longer gripping his own. He releases his own breath, letting it go wherever it pleases. He allows his eyes to be covered by something other than misery, and he drifts off.

And away.

* * *

"Three demigods, my lady."

"Oh, dear. Set camp here, then. These children need help, Zoë."

"But, Artemis, one of them is a boy."

"Yes. But no matter for now. I will not let him die in cold blood. We'll care for them."

The short exchange is enough for Luke's awareness to stir. His limbs no longer respond, though, and he finds himself only capable of clutching Thalia tighter, and holding Annabeth closer. His eyes fly open to a world of silver under the stars. Where the moon shines brighter. A wolf howls somewhere close by, and that has him trying to sit bolt upright.

His own weightless mass holds him down, or rather, is unable to hold him up. So the hand that presses harshly against his shoulder is not at all necessary.

"Stay down, half-blood. You are safe."

The voice is female, and it has an old-fashioned accent. Ancient, though the tone is young, and the hand is far too strong to be aged. When he focuses his eyesight, he sees a girl

"Where—?" Luke tries to ask.

"Rest. I will tell my mistress you are awake. Until then, do not try anything foolish." She warns coldly, and leaves the…wherever he is in.

He can barely raise his head, but the images of a dying blond child and a girl cold enough to be a corpse shake him out of starvation momentarily.

"Thalia? Annabeth?"

And then he looks the other way. More girls dressed in silver are solemnly watching his family as they rest silently next to him, covered in warm cloth. Both of their eyes remained closed, but he is soothed by their quiet breathing.

"Do not despair for your friends, Luke Castellan. They sleep soundly, and they are being nursed back to health as we speak."

It's a girl, maybe Thalia's age. She carries bows and arrows, and has long reddish brown hair gathered back. Her face is deadly beautiful, and her eyes are silvery yellow. She stands next to the girl he met earlier. The one named Zoë.

"Who—?"

"Fear not, boy. I've been sent to help you. I am Artemis. Goddess of the Hunt."

The fury boiling at the title nourishes his blood. He's had enough. "Who sent you?"

The girl smiles. She advances toward Annabeth's sleeping figure, and rests a hand on her now bony cheek. "She's warming up nicely. I believe we can start feeding them, Zoë. Cautiously, though. They have been many days without food or drink."

The older girl gestures her companions out of the tent, and they leave their tasks to follow her. "Yes, lady."

The goddess says nothing to Luke, but proceeds to check on Thalia. There is a tenderness in her eyes that sparkles whenever she looks at both girls. And then she gently shakes them both awake.

Thalia is the first to let her blue eyes fly open, and she reaches immediately for her wrist, where she keeps her shield. But she finds it impossible to move quickly with several heavy covers on top of her. With heavy _death _above her.

"Slowly, Thalia Grace. You are safe."

Annabeth is less impulsive. She gently stirs awake, slowly opening her eyes. Her hair fans across the silver pillow, and she yawns idly. She seems to not notice her surroundings right away. "Are there any cookies left? I'm still hungry."

"Oh, you can have all the cookies you want, Annabeth. But first we must give you something else. You haven't eaten in a long time." The goddess explains patiently.

"But I just ate last night!"

They know it's been only hours since their near death, but Annabeth appears to have lost track of time. It's still night outside, and the moon shines brighter than ever. Luke stares at Artemis, begging her through echoed blue eyes.

_Don't tell. _

She looks away. "Ah, yes. I'm sorry. Perhaps we can find some of those cookies for you. Won't that be nice?"

Annabeth smiles. "Yes, thank you!" And then she finally seems to notice the stranger. "Who are you?"

"And where are we?" Thalia groans, rather than chimes, in.

"I am Artemis. And we have set a temporary camp here to nurse you back to health."

As this female deity chats away with both girls, Luke watches the rest of silver girls swarm inside. They bring spoons and bottles of golden liquid, balancing them gracefully on small trays.

"I will give you Ambrosia and Nectar. This will cure your injuries. Then, you will be able to feast to your heart's content." Artemis smiles and pours the liquid. "A spoonful will suffice, I think."

He feels all better, and there comes a time when the goddess addresses him, and tells him it is not necessary to steal the food. He can store all he wants for his journey. Little does he know, though, that it may prove useless to save everything in portions of threes.

The girl named Zoë stands in front of them as Luke, Annabeth, and Thalia eat nonstop. She's tall, and very graceful. Her skin is coppery in color, but there is a silver glow around her, as if she were standing in front of the moon itself. She has long, dark hair, and into it is braided a silver circlet. Her voice is so commanding that they are forced to look up.

"I am Zoë Nightshade, Lieutenant of Artemis. The goddess wishes to speak with thee, Thalia Grace. And bring the little one with you."

She turns, as if she knows Thalia will follow without a doubt. The daughter of Zeus frowns, surprisingly irritated at her use of English, and turns to Luke.

"She probably just wants to know where we're going."

The boy, regardless, is too suspicious of this girls to let Thalia just wander off with one of them. Especially if she takes Annabeth with her. He has come close to losing both of them just hours ago, and he feels wary, no doubt. It seems as if tonight the world is beginning again, because he has been given a second chance.

"I don't trust them." He finally says.

"Well, I don't like them much, either, but we should just listen to what she has to say. They saved us, Luke."

Annabeth hears Luke sigh with indecision, as if it hurts that the big girl has asked to come with them. She'd like to go. They've been nice to her.

"Thalia, can we go?"

Electric blue eyes turn on her suddenly, and she pulls her up by the arm. "Yeah. We'll just go a few minutes, okay? We need to continue traveling."

"Okay!" Annabeth bounces up and down, tugging on Thalia's sleeve. But before she can pull her away from a brooding Luke, he grabs her arm.

"Be careful. And yell if you need anything." He warns.

"You can be so melodramatic sometimes." Thalia scoffs. "Why would I need anything?"

With that she walks away, and Luke is glad the color has returned to her cheeks at least.

_Why, indeed._

* * *

Annabeth stares in wonder at the silver tent they've gone into. Everything glitters faintly, rugs and pillows cover the floor, and a deer rests peacefully at Artemis's feet. She lets her mouth hang open as she grips Thalia's hand, and she blushes when the goddess speaks to her.

"Do you like it, dear?"

Her blond curls swing as she snaps her head back to the smiling girl. Attempting at politeness, she answers, "Very much. It's pretty."

Artemis nods, still smiling. "Thank you. I see you two are close."

Before Thalia is able to answer curtly out of cautiousness, Annabeth chirps in. "Very close! We're best friends! We're almost like sisters."

Annabeth states this as a fact, needing no more reassurance than the fingers wrapping around her little hand. Zoë cracks a small smile next to the goddess, while the words touch Thalia's very soul. She looks away, hoping no one has noticed her eyes go momentarily soft.

"I see," Artemis says, quite satisfied with this girl. "And how would you like to have more sisters, Annabeth?"

But Thalia's ready this time. "What do you mean?"

Zoë speaks up, regarding both girls with uncertainty. "We would have thee and thy friend Annabeth join the Hunt, Thalia Grace."

"Join?"

The mystified faces that are worn by both demigods come to the attention of Artemis. "As you have surely seen, my Huntresses accompany me. They pledge loyalty to me in exchange for immortality."

Thalia looks overwhelmed with shock. "That….that's huge."

"Indeed." Zoë agrees. "But it is completely worth it. We are my lady's sisters-in-arms, her companions. Once we swear allegiance, we become immortal, unless we fall in battle. Though I can assure you, the possibility is minimal."

Thalia grows more and more wary of this girl, while Annabeth turns rain into sunlight. "And we'd be together?"

"Oh, yes. Forever, Annabeth. You would not suffer of anything; cold, hunger, sickness…heartbreak." Artemis grimaces, and further composes herself. She looks at Thalia dead on. "I know you suffer so, my girl. Join us, and you will be free of responsibility. You do not have to become anxious of Annabeth, for she will be well taken care of, I assure you. Your bond will only become tighter, and you will have a bigger family. Us."

Words paint a bright picture in her mind. It's not exactly pink, for she hates the color, but it's light and beautiful. It's the world she dreams of when her nightmares are merciful enough to leave her alone for a night. Where Annabeth is so happy and healthy, and she doesn't have to worry. Where _she _is happy.

And then it shatters, rips, and the design bleeds out of the edges.

"Imagine that, Thalia." Artemis continues. "You will not have to forget yourself, _or _Annabeth. Trade your whole life. It is a good choice, I assure you."

"I want to join. Thalia, please, let's do it. It sounds fun."

_Luke. _

"But—there aren't any boys in this camp. Luke can't join, can he?"

The picture bleeds further in misery. It's imperfect, just like everything else.

"Certainly not!" Zoë huffs, outraged. "Men are not worthy. If you wish to join, you shall be a maiden eternally. Believe me, you are better off, daughter of Zeus."

"Yes indeed." Artemis breaks in, somewhat altered. "You forswear romantic love forever. Never grow up, never get married."

"Who wants to get married? I want a family, Thalia."

Annabeth cannot understand why her friend has suddenly gone still, her eyes narrowed, and colored a murderous blue. She grips her little hand so tight she's hurting her.

_What's wrong Thalia?_

A wolf howls in the night, followed by a series of whispers. Artemis stands. "I had better go and see what is the matter." Putting a hand on Thalia's shoulder, she spoke gently. "Do think about it, my girl. Promise me."

But Thalia looks away, and the goddess leaves, sorrow in her eyes.

"You cannot seriously consider refusing! It is a stupid choice." Zoë snorts. "Refusing immortality for a _boy. _That is beyond ridiculous."

There is thunder in Thalia's eyes, and she snaps back, defiant. "Luke is not just a boy! He's cared for us. He's my family, and I can't just leave him!"

"Oh you had better," the Hunter warns. "Before he leaves you. How has he cared for you , exactly? You were on the verge of death, if it crossed your mind. Look at the poor girl. He almost killed her."

"He _wouldn't. _You don't know _anything!_"

She let's go of Annabeth's hand, as if unchained, and Annabeth shrinks back in terror.

"Oh, I know so very, very much, Thalia Grace. And you are being stupid."

"_Stupid?" _She shrieks. "Who do you think you are to call me stupid, you stuck-up princess?"

"You will regret your choice, this I swear to you!" Zoë bites with her equally choleric tone. "He will let you down someday. They all do!"

_Words. _

"Go. To. Hell."

The fury claims her brain, claws open, and refuses to let go. Without thinking better of it, she hauls Annabeth behind her, and out of the tent. The child fights and throws a tantrum, something so uncharacteristic Thalia is forced to snap out. "No, Thalia! We can't leave! I want a family!"

Thalia crouches down to her level and grips her shoulders. "Listen to me, Annabeth. They want us to leave Luke, okay? He can't be in this family, and if we join, we'll never see him again. Ever."

Terror widens gray eyes.

"Leave Luke? We can't leave Luke. No, let's go away from here."

Thalia smiles, satisfied. "Exactly, kiddo. Luke has never left us, and we would be leaving him. That's not fair, is it? That's called _betrayal, _Annabeth, and we don't betray our family."

Annabeth nods, comprehending.

"So what did they want?"

The boy in question appears behind them, and Thalia is haunted by remorse. How could she have been so unfair to him? "I have no idea. They're all nuts." She lies, watching Annabeth run to hug him tightly. Remorse haunts her, too.

They're both haunted, while Luke is possessed.

"I guess you're feeling better, Annabeth. I promise, promise never to let you hungry again, okay?"

"Not even a little bit?"

Luke laughs. "No, not even this much." He shows a millimeter with his thumb and index. "We have enough food for the next town. What do you say, Annabeth? Would you like to see New York?"

"'Yes!"

"Then let's go." Thalia smiles. "We need a new adventure."

As Annabeth walks away from the silver camp, under the pretense that everything is gold, she rejoices in her newly learned lesson. She forever burns the bridge to the Hunters, because she doesn't need them. She already has a family, and a great one, too.

_And we never, ever betray our family. _

**

* * *

**

* * *

**And I do assume you were one of those 100 people, because not 60 people read this! ;D You do the math.**

**Anywho, I hope you did enjoy our service. Stay tuned for our next product. We specialize on Procrastination, don't we?**

**Anna:)**


	5. Three Is Human

**Concrete Angel  
Three is Human**

* * *

****

Bonjour!

**A/N Introducing...'The Procrastination Pill'! The first in the market to grant an unhealthy amount of postponement of your daily, must-do activites. Our proven, tested formula- one that a few people have counted on!- is highly effective, easy to use, and provides everything you need in this crappy, step-by-step fic! Bold, shallow innovation featuring poor writing are all you need to feel normal again. So look no further for a trash-can worthy story! ALL UNDER ONE AUTHOR. Read ahead, monsieur, madame, our experts in crap are standing by for your call! **

* * *

They sit around the same woods thrice, share three secrets, and shed three tears. It's their magic number.

She crouches over herself, one hand digging on the dirt, the other gripping a faded photograph. Usually, the warmth of Luke's and Thalia's sleeping figures would calm her in a moment, but not now. Tonight, the picture she holds makes everything cold. A sob wracks through her small frame, and this time, it's heard.

Thalia is up in the limb of a second. She's put Annabeth behind her, Aegis and her spear ready. She snarls, skimming through the darkness. Luke holds her close, his sword pointed at the sinister trees of New Jersey.

"What is it, Annabeth? What did you see?" Thalia whispers.

Instantly, the blond girl feels silly. By putting up this childish act, she's agitated her family. She's made them think she was physically hurt.

"It's nothing," She promises, wrinkling her nose at the stench of the Hudson river. "I couldn't sleep."

"Are you sure?" Luke asks.

"Positive."

"But I swear I heard something." Thalia insists. "It sounded like—oh."

She stares at Annabeth's red, puffy face. Nothing alarms Thalia more than tears. She gets awkward, useless, and lost. Tentatively, she smiles sadly. A single thread of water makes its way around Annabeth's cheek.

"What's wrong?"

But Annabeth is childish once more, and feeling no consideration for Thalia's efforts, she turns away brusquely. "Nothing. I'm sorry I woke you."

Thalia glances at Luke, who has now dropped his weapon. "What's that?"

The boy gently takes the old picture from her, and the moonlight shows her the reason for Annabeth's upset.

It's her in the picture. Perhaps a few years younger, but definitely a grinning, lively Annabeth. He smiles at her expression. Next to her, a furry creature is posing for the camera; a black Doberman whose neck is being held tightly by the little girl. It appears to be soaking wet, and its fur is as tousled as Annabeth's hair.

"That's a very cool dog, Annabeth. Is it yours?"

"It _was _mine." Annabeth sighs, reclaiming her picture. "I had to leave him when I ran away . We sent him to obedience school and everything."

Thalia scoots over, sitting next to Annabeth. "That's awesome."

"Mmm. He had this rubber ball…it was his favorite toy. I sort of took it with me, because it was a good memory, you know?" She reaches for her backpack and produces a bright red sphere. It's another piece of the secret life Annabeth slowly and deliberately shares with them. Luke and Thalia have learned to be grateful for that.

"Thanks for sharing." Luke puts a hand on her shoulder. "We know how much it means to you."

"No problem." Annabeth yawns, eager to avoid further conversation. "You can go back to sleep now."

"Okay," Thalia agrees, rubbing her bloodshot eyes. "I'm dead tired."

She goes back to lie on the ground, wrapping her jacket around herself and making a mental note to get some blankets at least. It takes two seconds and a half for her to start snoring. Luke walks over and places his jacket above her sleeping figure. Annabeth stares at him. He should know Thalia loathes to be taken care of. He has the experience _and_ the bruises to prove it.

"I'll take it off before she wakes up," he promises. "She needs it more than we do."

Annabeth nods her agreement as Luke lies down beside her, hands folded over his stomach. "I'm tired."

"We're all tired," she reminds him.

Her hand twitches towards his, eager to take it. He seems to think of something, and turns his head to look at her. "What do you want for breakfast tomorrow? I was thinking waffles."

It's this niceties that make her enjoy the triviality of life. Making a monumental argument over the chosen bus routes, getting to watch Thalia vs. Luke fights over dinner from the front row, and even trying to sleep with the rain constantly pecking their faces with cold, goodnight kisses.

"Waffles sound great. With lots of syrup on them, right?"

"Oh, they'll be swimming in syrup, just the way we like it, don't worry." Luke promises, chuckling.

"Too bad Thalia doesn't like the syrup." Annabeth laments.

"Mmm. It's just you and me on that, kiddo. But we can have some milkshakes later, how about that?"

"Is that even a healthy breakfast?"

Luke seems to think about it for a moment. "Sure it is. Plenty of morning carbs for energy, and the milkshakes have milk. Milk's good, right?"

She shrugs. "Who cares? They taste good."

Luke ruffles her blond hair. "That's my girl."

She hopes it's too dark to notice her blushing, because right then, he absentmindedly grips her small hand and places it on his chest as if it's normal behavior. She can feel his heart beat steadily underneath his shirt. "Are you cold?"

"No," she answers. "I'm fine."

"That's a lie." Luke chides her, gripping her hand tighter. "Your hands are freezing."

"That's okay. Thalia needs it more than we do, you said it yourself."

So Luke turns around and traps her between Thalia and himself, hoping the warmth shall suffice. He knows Thalia'll zap him where it hurts the most if she ever finds out he took care of her instead of Annabeth. But Annabeth's never left unattended. _Like she'll ever freeze to death while I'm here…_

He's the last to drift away, because he has to make sure they're okay. He always does.

* * *

The next morning, the sweet smell of waffles wakes Thalia. She soundlessly stirs and stretches, noticing at once that she's warmer than usual. She pinches the blue and red piece of cloth, her mind slowly giving it a shape, a name, and an owner.

_Luke's freaking jacket. _

"Luke!" She roars.

Only then she notices the blond people sitting under a pine tree, having what looks like a drowning waffle. Annabeth eats nonstop, too used to Thalia not being a morning person. Despite a tiny worry in the back of her mind for Luke's well-being, she has a huge smile. This breakfast is too good. Luke turns on Thalia.

"Morning, Sunshine."

She glares at him.

"Okay." He agrees. "How about 'cloudy with a chance of showers'?"

Thalia holds up the jacket for him to see. Luke barely bothers to shrug. "It was cold last night."

"Exactly." She agrees. "I don't suppose you had an extra wool blanket up your sleeve, did you?"

"I do have a jacket, you know." Annabeth points out. "A really big jacket."

"And I slept just fine." Luke holds his arms out, showing her. "See? No frostbite or anything."

Thalia rolls her eyes. "What's for breakfast?"

"Waffles." Annabeth's mouth is full. "Any kind you want."

"Help yourself. I saved some with chocolate chips for you." Luke hands her a Styrofoam plate.

"How'd you pay for all this?"

Luke smiles wickedly. "I didn't. I'm such a handsome homeless kid, the hostess ordered some waffles immediately."

Annabeth snorts. "That's not true. I went in and looked miserable, and they gave me the food."

"Now _that _I can believe. I bet you widened your eyes pleadingly and everything, Annabeth."

The girl smiles at Thalia. "I can't say it doesn't work."

" 'Handsome homeless kid'…." Thalia mutters. "What do they put in that syrup?"

She easily dodges the waffle that flies at her.

At night, they're back on their camping place, ready to drop dead.

"Ow," Thalia complains, dropping to the damp dirt. "Freaking hellhound."

Luke falls into place beside her. "At least we got rid of it before it could warn its pack."

"Annabeth did." Thalia reminds him. Her tone has lost temperature, because she knows they could've avoided the monster, but Luke was only too eager to fight it. "Great job with that knife."

The battered girl crimsons, settling between the two. "Thanks."

"It was pretty amazing. You're getting better, Annabeth." Luke agrees.

"Aren't you tired enough?"

The older demigods both laugh and immediately wince in pain. "Yeah, but the ground is wet. We really won't be able to sleep here." Thalia concludes.

"I've got an idea." Luke's voice comes out triumphant. "Look at the trees. They have boughs we could sleep on."

"Or _slip _on….." Thalia mutters. "We can't. What if we fall?"

"Oh, come on, Thalia. It's like five feet high." Luke chides.

"More like nine, actually." Annabeth corrects. "But it's unlikely we'd fall. The bark looks steady and wide enough."

"No, I—I can't. I'll take the watch for tonight. You guys go ahead."

Annabeth frowns at the fear in Thalia's voice, suspicion slowly lurking around an idea. She swears her friend is turning green. "But you're too tired. Maybe I can—"

"No." Thalia snaps, and immediately her voice takes on a soft tone. "It's okay. I—I can do it."

Annabeth glances at Luke, who's staring at Thalia intently. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Why would anything be wrong? No, I'll just sleep down here. The rain probably left the bark even damper."

There's a long silence in which they both stare at the blue-eyed girl. They don't miss the pale tone her skin has acquired, nor the clammy complexion. Something clicks audibly inside Annabeth's mind.

"You're afraid of heights."

"Of course not. Don't be stupid."

Annabeth scoffs, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. '_Stupid_' is not an adjective that goes with her. Not at all. Her small lips press into a line, demanding her credit.

"…maybe a little."

Luke raises his eyebrows. "A little?"

Thalia throws her hands up in the air. "A lot, okay? I hate high places. I just didn't tell you before because I know it's silly—and yes, it's ironic, too, Annabeth—and I knew you guys would make fun."

She wipes a stray tear furiously.

"We're not making fun." Annabeth says. "We're all afraid of something."

"Yeah. Don't worry about it, Thalia." Luke shrugs. "We'll use the blankets we bought today, and we'll wash them tomorrow. It's not that big of a deal."

Thalia's nod is so small, only Annabeth notices. "Thanks."

"No problem." Luke yawns, knowing the bond of all three grows at a nice rate. He can only imagine how hard it is for them to open up.

An hour later, three pairs of eyes have closed for the night. Gone to a place where their secrets become tired of the insincere, and so they're given away to the people who matter the most.

_Trust._

* * *

Wreckage dances ahead of the two girls as they run, desperate, towards their safe point in the woods. Luke leans heavily on both of them. His eyes are half-open, and he's battered, bruised, and bleeding.

"Get me the bandages, Annabeth." Thalia orders.

Wrapping the white cloth around Luke's arm, Thalia frowns at him. "What the _hell _were you thinking? You knew that lady was a monster!"

Luke coughs. "We could've taken her, easy. I know we could've, Thalia!"

"What is your problem?" She yells at him. "You want to pick a fight with every monster that crosses our path. You're reckless. You're moody. You told us to hide in that closet instead of running!You thought the monster would just pass by? She was trying to find us, Luke! You almost—"

"That's enough, Thalia!" He roars at her. Annabeth steps back instinctively. "I know what I did, okay? I'm sorry. I really am. You both could've gotten hurt. I told you to get in that closet because….because that's what I used to do."

They both stare at him, unable to provide comfort.

"When my—mother was having one of her….._episodes,_ I used to crouch in the broom closet, gripping the mop. I'd put a bucket over my head so she wouldn't be able to hear me. I knew she'd come find me with those….those _eyes _if she did. I was nine years old, I—"

He is interrupted by a pair of small arms wrapping around him. "Thanks for sharing."

He's too shocked to reply.

"Yeah," Thalia agrees with a sincere smile. "we know how much it means to you."

The tear that runs down Luke's face is quickly forgotten in their hug. The three demigods sit there, lost in their embrace, promising things they can't promise in words.

Human behavior flows from three main sources: desire, emotion, and knowledge.

And there's no better trio than them to prove this point, because they're somewhat human.

* * *

**Anna145 Inc. "Offering rich-in-poverty fanfiction 2,521 words at a time."  
****  
Don't be afraid to ask for your sanity back, no-risk guarantee! If you are not satisfied with our product, feel free to roast marshmallows at the flame pit as Complimentary Service to the Unhappy Customer. Don't forget to offer feedback through the Complaints Department, right below! **

**And remember: Your call is FREE! 24 hours a day!**

**So, any ideas for the next one-shot? Don't hesitate to review.**

**Anna:)**


End file.
